


Waves

by trueblue94



Series: Sterek drabbles [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2561276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trueblue94/pseuds/trueblue94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"For the record, this was not on the schedule for Friday-night-fun, and it never will be."</p>
<p>"We can discuss the great bad-timing abilities of these fucking monsters after this one is dead, okay? Now get out there and get rid of it!" Scott rolls his eyes at his friend, but nods quickly in agreement. Better to end it now. He lifts himself out the window and rolls onto the ground, fangs elongating, already transformed and ready. He takes off after the thing, which is running along the treeline with Derek, and is preparing an attack in his head when it happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waves

Scott slams against the door, arm swinging out to keep himself steady as Stiles whips the Jeep around, tires squealing on the pavement. His hands flail on the wheel, his face twisted into something like intense concentration and terror. 

"Holy shit, Stiles!" Scott yells as Stiles slams his foot down on the gas, watching the pedometer rise and rise. The vehicle can only go so fast, and it seems as if the thing trailing them is having no problem keeping up. It slams against the side, almost jerking them off the road. There's another figure following them, and Scott looks back to confirm that yes, it's Derek, eyes flashing blood red in the rear-view mirror. "Can't you go any faster?!" The monster growls and dives for the Jeep again, but Stiles swerves just in time. 

"Fuck, Scott, my baby can only take so much! Why don't you take your wolfy-ass out there and help?" Stiles still looks terrified, though confident. "This will probably get done a lot quicker if you do!"

"For the record, this was not on the schedule for Friday-night-fun, and it never will be."

"We can discuss the great bad-timing abilities of these fucking monsters after this one is dead, okay? Now get out there and get rid of it!" Scott rolls his eyes at his friend, but nods quickly in agreement. Better to end it now. He lifts himself out the window and rolls onto the ground, fangs elongating, already transformed and ready. He takes off after the thing, which is running along the treeline with Derek, and is preparing an attack in his head when it happens. 

The monster slams into the side of the Jeep again, and Stiles is going so fast that it spins out of control. He hears identical roars, Scott and Derek, and the Jeep slams into the nearest tree. It all happens so fast that Stiles barely has time to close his eyes before impact.

 

When Stiles awakes, it's to the sound of the ocean. The waves are coming in, high tide, pushing the sand underneath his toes. The water tickles his skin, a gentle caress, and there's a slight breeze. He can smell the salt of the water, watches the pink, yellow, orange beauty of the sunset as it reflects off the water. He feels nothing but peace, and smiles to himself, stretching his arms out above his head. He gazes at the wonder of it all, the water rising to his ankles, the waves licking at his feet, the sun as it sparkles off the blue, and he aches. It's a deep ache, something he can't decipher, doesn't have the vocabulary to explain even to himself. It just intensifies, and the water continues to rise, but he feels good. Warm. He thinks of his mom, and their trip to the beach one year, before she was sick. When she had built the sand castle with him, only to accidentally destroy it tripping over a plastic bucket. She had looked at him as if she had committed a heinous crime, and before she could open her mouth to apologize, both Stiles and his dad had started laughing. He remembers the warmth of her touch, the way her hands had softly wiped sand from his skin, the brilliance of her smile, the feel of her toes against his under the water, the waves against his torso as he held onto her for dear life, and her laugh. And as the water continues to rise and rise, lifting up past his shoulders, above his head, he breathes deeply and closes his eyes, letting it all wash over him. 

He feels someone gripping his arm and a voice in his ear, whispering, "Stiles. Stiles, don't close your eyes. Look at me, Stiles!" and so he does open his eyes and he's floating, as if he weighs nothing. The grip on his arm tightens and he looks to the side, only to suck in water. It burns down his throat, a line of fire, and the ache explodes into something worse, something even more painful than he had thought before. It's his mother, or rather what used to be his mother. Rotted, decaying flesh, bones missing skin touching him, leaving a line of fire in their wake, blood against his skin and he gasps and gasps, and suddenly, he's not in the water any longer.

Derek's eyes are boring into his, frantic. "Shit, Stiles!"

He tries to move his head, to look down at his arm, heart-thundering in his chest to make sure the hand on him isn't what it was, that it's Derek, but he can't seem to control his own body and his eyelids are so heavy. "Wha-?"

Derek's hands move to his face, turning his head to look at him. "Stiles, listen to me, you've got to stay awake, Scott is calling an ambulance but you have got to fucking stay awake!"

'That's the longest sentence you've ever spoken to me, good job Sourwolf.' He wants to say, or at least, he tries to. His tongue feels too big for his mouth and he slurs whatever words are trying to make their way out. He tries to take a deep breath but something isn't working, and he's not getting much air at all. He feels numb, and he musters all of his strength to move his gaze from Derek, down, and he regrets it immediately. 

Blood is dripping from somewhere onto his favorite pair of jeans. Not that it matters, because from the look of it, they're already drenched. His head is pounding and there's a rushing sound in his ears, and the pain starts to come at him in waves. There's a branch from the tree that his Jeep has apparently become one with impaled in the right side of his chest, and he tries to breathe, tries to focus, but he can't. He screams out in pain and he reaches for Derek, fingernails ripping into his skin. He would feel bad, but he can't. Not when Sourwolf can heal, and he's probably dying. Probably? Definitely. 

"Stiles," He can hear the sirens in the distance and Scott's voice on the phone but he doesn't know what he's saying and Derek feels so hot, too hot, why are his hands so hot? They're burning against his skin and Stiles wants to scream again but when he tries to suck in a breath, he coughs and feels a wetness against his lips. Derek's face turns desperate then, and he knows he's fucked. "Stiles, they're going to be here in a second, just give it a few more minutes okay, just a little while longer and you'll be okay, I promise you'll be okay." It sounds more like Derek is talking to himself and he coughs again, trying to find his voice, only for the steady stream of blood coming from his side to turn into a river, and he groans. 

He wants to talk, wants to try and say something to Derek to let him know, he needs to know, needs to know, he needs Derek to know but he can't seem to form the words and when did the lights go out?

"Fuck, Stiles, come on! Stiles! STILES!"

**Author's Note:**

> Rated M, just in case
> 
> you can find me on tumblr under the URL fine-as-hale for my fandom blog
> 
> hope you enjoyed, sorry for the ouchies


End file.
